my neck and drew my lips
to hers.

Dear little girl! How very like a child she was! A creature of
impulse, a toy in the hands of her own fleeting emotions!

"Say! George,--I just got to hug you sometimes," she cried, "you are
so good to me."

She stood back and surveyed me as if she were trying to gauge my weight
and strength.

As it so happened, that was exactly what she was doing.

"You aren't scared of our Joe,--are you?" she asked.

"No!" I laughed. "What put that funny question into your head?"

She became serious.

"Well,--if I thought you were, I wouldn't come back for any more
Grammar."

"Why?" I asked.

"Joe's not very well pleased about it. Guess he thinks nobody should
be able to speak better'n he can."

"Oh!--never mind Joe," I exclaimed. "He'll come round, and your
grand-dad's consent is all you need anyway."

"Sure! But I know, all the same, that Joe's got it in for you. He
hasn't forgot the words you and he had."

"When did you see him last, Rita?"

"He was in to-day. Wanted to know where I was going. Grand-dad told
him, then Joe got mad. Says you're 'too damned interfering.' Yes!
Joe said it. He said to Grand-dad, 'You ain't got no right lettin'
that kid go over there. Girls ain't got any business learnin' lessons
off'n men.'

"Grand-dad said, 'Aw! forget it, Joe. She's got my permission, so let
that end it. George Bremner's all right.'

"The settlers are arranging for a teacher up here next summer. Why
can't she wait till then and get her lessons from a reg'lar
professional, and no gol-durned amatoor,' said Joe.

"'See here, Mister man!' I said, 'you're sore,--that's your trouble.
But I'm not going to be bullied by you,--so there. I'm through with
you, Joe Clark;--and, what's more, you needn't take any interest in me
any more. I can look after myself.'

"He gripped my arm. It's black and blue yet. See!

"'You ain't goin',' said he, madder'n ever.

"'Yes! I am,' I said.

"'If you go, by God, I'll kill that son-of-a-gun. Watch me! I ain't
forgot him, though maybe he's fool enough to think I have.'

"Then he got kind of soft.

"'Don't you go, Rita.'

"'Why?' I asked.

"'Because I don't want you to.'

"'That's no reason,' I said.

"I'll send you to a school in Vancouver this winter, if you'll wait,'
he coaxed.

"You see, George,--Joe ain't half bad sometimes. But I was scared he
might think I was givin' in.

"'Don't want your schooling. It'